


nothing here to hold on to

by single_spark



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: A Very Small Cameo, AU: Zatanna's a bar singer and Dick is her backup guitarist, Alcohol, Artemis Has a Cameo, F/M, I'm a huge nerd, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, My First AO3 Post, Short One Shot, bc bruno is a drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/single_spark/pseuds/single_spark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the dawn trickled over the horizon, Zatanna remembered Dick's guitar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing here to hold on to

The bar reeked of perfume, Zatanna noticed. And not the good kind-- more of a smell that spat in your face and hissed at you before darting away. She leaned against her microphone as she finished a song and gazed out at the crowd, scanning the faces. None of them were looking at her, let alone clapping to acknowledge her performance, and Zatanna had the sudden urge to do something crazy: scream, start doing stand-up comedy, take the mike off the stand and throw it across the room. Then again, she doubted anyone would pay attention anyway. She sighed, unplugged the microphone, and nodded to her backup guitar player, who had stopped tuning and was looking at her. "I need a drink."

After grabbing something with a gold label from the dusty cooler by the wall, Zatanna ventured into the audience, winding the end of her braid around her finger. Part of her was fishing for compliments, but part of her just wanted to look around and see what was going on. If backstage was what generated the performance, like her dad had told her, then the audience was the real backstage, and she had an all-access pass. 

She rested on a bench at the edge of the rows of tables, next to a spiky-haired man with an angular figure. He didn't look old enough to be here, Zatanna thought, smirking. She decided to make conversation anyway: he was sort of cute. 

"Hi there," she tried. He looked toward her, making a slightly disgusted expression, like Zatanna was something unpleasant he'd found on the bottom of his shoe. 

"Can I help you?" he asked coldly, wrinkling his nose. 

Zatanna narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance. "Actually, I don't think so. Thanks anyway." The guy shrugged and looked away, and Zatanna realized that his attention was focused on a blonde girl sitting near the entrance. 

With a curl of her lip, Zatanna stood up and headed toward the stage, but then hesitated. She didn't feel like singing anymore. The same songs were so boring, and besides, no one would even send a cursory glance her way. 

Zatanna looked over at Bruno, her boss. He was absorbed in a bottle of beer at the counter. His shoulders were slumped, greasy hair hanging down to brush the sides of the bottle. He hadn't even noticed she was gone from the stage. With a secret sort of smile, the sort you get randomly when you're walking down the street, the sort that you hide to keep strangers from thinking you're crazy, Zatanna slipped out the side door. 

The city lights glared dully at Zatanna, and all around her there was an orange glow, the color of streetlamps and lit cigarettes. She realized that she could get lost here, but it didn't matter. No one would notice her disappearance, certainly not the customers in the bar. 

Zatanna had no reason to stay in the light of the bar's obnoxious neon sign. She headed down the alleyway and became just another shadow in her black clothing. Her heels sounded against the asphalt, blending comfortably with the indistinct hum of a fair-sized city. 

Then, a second set of footsteps. Zatanna put a hand on her shoulder bag protectively and turned around to face the figure of a man, his face shadowed. 

She expected him to try to attack her, or worse, but he just took a small step forward so his features could be seen and smiled. "Hey. Saw you bail back there."

It was Dick, her guitar player, Zatanna realized, relaxing a little. "Yeah. I, um, needed some fresh air."

"I also saw you talking to Junior," Dick said, making a face and brushing some dark hair out of his eyes. "What an asshole."

Zatanna grinned. That must have been the spiky-haired jerk. "Tell me about it." 

Dick fell into step with her then, and they discussed the lack of brain cells in that bar. Dick told her how Bruno had gotten so drunk that he'd passed out face-first into his tray of peanuts, and Zatanna laughed so hard at that mental image that she almost fell over. She accidentally leaned into Dick when she did this- it was accidental, wasn't it?- and he supported her as if her weight was nothing, chuckling along with her. 

It was really, really nice to get out of the ashen faces and stained walls that the bar was home to, and it was even nicer to have Dick with her, because with him, she was the closest she'd ever get to being drunk on happiness (and maybe just a little bit of alcohol). 

So instead of heading back to her job and being a pretty fish in an aquarium for people to stare at, she stayed with Dick all night. They climbed fire escapes (Dick was much more agile than she'd originally realized) and told stories (Zatanna had more than a few) as they sat with their feet dangling over the edges of roofs, watching as brightly colored cars crawled by below, their lights hovering in the smog and mist of this hour of the night. It was almost natural when she leaned over to kiss him, and afterward, he told her that he loved hearing her sing. So she sang. 

When the dawn trickled over the horizon, Zatanna remembered Dick's guitar. They climbed down and started to run back to the bar, Dick cursing under his breath but smiling all the same. The men who were always loitering on the sidewalk hooted and called at them, words that would have stung had Zatanna not been used to it. She simply tugged the hem of her skirt down and kept running. One of the men actually stuck his leg out to try and trip Dick, but he leapt over it easily. He was _fast_ , Zatanna noticed, struggling to keep up in her stilettos. 

When they arrived at the bar, the door was locked. "I'll take the back," Dick called, ducking around the side of the building. Zatanna shrugged and went to the side door, dodging a dumpster. 

Bruno was there, sitting on the steps outside of the door. Another bottle was clenched in his fist, and he stared defiantly at the ground. He looked almost as if he'd been waiting for her. 

At the sight of her, he got to his feet, obviously still intoxicated. "Where the hell've you been?" he shouted, swaying slightly. The bottle was released from his grasp and shattered across the cement. Zatanna took a step back. 

"I lost customers 'cause of you two ditchin' me." He stepped toward her, and she backed up again, wrinkling her nose, her heart pounding. She could smell the beer on his breath.

Zatanna blinked up at him, forcing herself to take a steady breath. "It isn't my fault you were too drunk to notice me leave," she retorted, knowing she shouldn't have said it the moment the words slipped out. 

Her boss looked at her, seeming a bit uncertain and then huffed with sudden rage. His fist shot out toward her face. 

Zatanna flinched and closed her eyes, instinctively throwing her hands up, but no blow came. She opened her eyes and peeked, then dropped her hands, shocked. 

Dick was holding Bruno's fist tightly in both hands, his mouth set in a grim line. Zatanna had never seen that look on Dick's face in the three years she'd known him, and she'd definitely never seen the look of confusion and pain that currently resided on her boss' face as Dick's grip tightened. Zatanna cringed when she heard a sharp crack. 

"You ever try something like that again, I'll break _all_ of your fingers," Dick growled, his hands releasing Bruno's. Bruno let out a squeak and looked down at his now unaligned left thumb, then hurried back into the bar, tripping over the doorjamb. Before the door closed, he yelled at them, "I'm burning that guitar!"

"We quit!" Zatanna shouted back, then glanced at Dick. To her relief, the menacing expression was gone, replaced by a relieved smile. 

"Did you see the look on his face?" Dick ran a hand through his shaggy hair, grinning. "He was terrified." 

Zatanna smiled, her heart threatening to jump out of her mouth for how hard it was beating. "Thanks for doing that. I'd have a nasty bruise." She looked at the door with only a little regret. "He'll be okay though, right?"

Dick chuckled. "Yeah. I just dislocated his thumb. Scared the crap out of him too, I bet. It'll hurt like hell to put back in, but it'll heal."

"Sorry about your guitar," Zatanna said apologetically, staring at her feet. 

Dick shook his head, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Nah, don't be. Wasn't my money that bought it anyway."

"So, now what?" she asked, biting her lip. It hit her that she had just _quit her job_ , her _only job_ and the only thing that was paying for her rent--

"Now?" Dick smiled at her. "Now, we go back to that roof and you give me an encore."

Maybe rent wasn't what she had to worry about now, Zatanna decided. 

She took Dick's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> title from City by Sara Bareilles.  
> This story has had many many MANY drafts, and I still didn't want to post it, but I figured it was about time I did something with it.  
> I hope you liked it! If there are any errors lemme know at my tumblr (officialbatbrat).Or, you know, leave a comment. That'd be cool of you.


End file.
